


A Game Lost

by Burning_Sol



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Boy Morrison, Dead Genji Shimada, Dead Reinhardt Wilhelm, Dead Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, Except One Big Unhappy Family, I mean, If You're Waiting For McHanzo Kissing You'll Be Waiting A While, One Big Happy Family, Slow Burn, Talon Hanzo Shimada, Talon Jesse McCree, Talon!AU, Toxic Relationships, good guy Gabe, lots of people are dead, super slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Sol/pseuds/Burning_Sol
Summary: Jesse McCree had been spared at Gabriel’s insistence, he was the lucky one. He got one chance, two chances, three chances… It didn’t make a difference anymore. One bullet, two bullets, three bullets…There was nothing left to say.





	1. Take A Break

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> I'm not a very good writer, I'm just writing as a hobby really. I had this AU in my head that I wanted to get out there... I've already got some goals in mind that I'll try to reach. Let's hope my motivation can get us there!!
> 
> Some warnings beforehand... I might go back and change some stuff, a lot of this is drabbles I wrote in school. If it bothers you then feel free to go back and reread chapters, if you're not then continue reading as I update! Secondly, these chapters are going to be very short which means there are going to be a LOT of chapters. As I've said, I've already got some goals in mind and (let me tell you) it's going to be quite a while until we get there.
> 
> With that in mind, I do hope you enjoy! Thank you for kudos and comments, it makes me so much happier than you could ever know. TvT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo wasn't having a good day, McCree wasn't either... They can both stand each other if they can get coffee out of it.

“While I admire the morality of Talon, you’re not exactly making things any easier for me. I can say that I understand why your previous employees strayed, without your presence there to threaten them.” Hanzo’s eyes flickered up from his glass to Akande, the man’s brow quirked up. 

 

“Hmph, so you propose we follow through with their investments?”

 

“I do not mean to offend your decisions nor what you stand for, I owe you debts beyond my basic services, but I do request a revision of sorts.”

 

“You’re certainly bold, Mr Shimada. An admirable trait. While I urge you to hold your tongue, you are wise to inform me on this occasion. Expect a meeting soon, Mr Shimada. I assume you will prepare.”   
  
The scion sighed to himself. “Of course.”

 

Hanzo promptly bowed at the hip and dismissed himself, after polishing off his drink that is. He had to organise his assets and prepare himself post haste, everything he had to prepare flickering across his mind while he walked. He moved with haste in a blind hope he wouldn’t have to engage in any conversations. Standing in front of his quarters, he calculated the time in his head, looking in the general direction of where the break room was. If he could finish everything tonight, he saw no reason to not claim the opportunity. However, he’d need something to keep him moving and that would mean... 

 

Hanzo bit his lip and sought to take refuge in his room. 

 

“Howdy, Mr Shimada! Having another existential crisis?”

 

A thick american drawl had Hanzo’s shoulders drop in defeat. Life had other plans apparently. Not for the first time since he joined Talon’s ranks, perhaps it wished to kick him for his selfishness. 

 

“Cowboy, I only question my life decisions when you’re in my immediate proximity.” 

 

McCree let out a loud snort that left Hanzo cringing, as if the cowboy’s naturally booming voice wasn’t enough to get on his nerves. 

 

“Mr Shimada, y’er a hoot. Considering the flattery, how about I getcha a lil’ drink?”

 

Hanzo certainly needed the caffeine in his system now, he would not be getting any sleep tonight. Stiffly nodding, Hanzo fell in step behind the cowboy’s confident strides. He focused on the heels of McCree’s boots, his spurs jingling with every step. How McCree possibly got assigned to any stealth mission was beyond Hanzo’s extensive comprehension. 

 

Hanzo paused just inside the break room’s doorway.  

 

“Mr Shimada, how y’all like your coffee?”

 

“Strong.” Hanzo said a little too sharply and he quickly sought to amend it. “Just...  Make it strong.” 

 

McCree didn’t press him for more details. While Hanzo was relieved to be cast into temporary silence, he was slightly wary of how McCree could possibly interpret his vague descriptor. Coffee wasn’t to Hanzo’s taste in the first place, he would completely recoil if it wasn’t just so. Hanzo hadn’t realised he was shifting uncomfortably in place until McCree spoke up.

 

“You uh... Gonna sit down?” Hanzo chose to stay silent in hope that McCree would drop into silence again. Instead the cowboy shrugged. “Not like sittin’ down would be any better than walkin’ ‘round without your bow.”

 

Hanzo scowled, his teeth grinding together. The unnecessary reminder of his vulnerability was not appreciated and McCree quickly got the message. The cowboy’s expression fell with guilt and made a point to quietly turn back to the task at hand. Hanzo swiftly marched to the lone couch in the room and sat down as loudly as was possible, huffing. If that didn’t get the cowboy tensing up, then it was the daggers Hanzo glared into his back. 

 

That didn’t mean the cowboy didn’t look back every now and again, although now he scuttled away from Hanzo’s gaze like a kicked puppy. While he would normally disregard an offender's shame, his gut tightened with something uncomfortable. Had he been expecting something different from the cowboy? Maybe he expected him to press Hanzo on or to simply rattle off a few jokes. What  _ had  _ he been expecting? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t for McCree to... Shut himself up. 

 

McCree stepped in front of Hanzo, making it a point to bore a hole into the ground rather than look him in the eyes. He offered Hanzo a cup which he took gingerly. McCree tightened on his own like a vice and shivered a little under Hanzo’s cold gaze. Hanzo hummed to himself in consideration. He shuffled over on the couch and patted to the new spot next to himself audibly, McCree’s brows furrowed in confusion. The cowboy sat down, fingers twitching a little and still not wishing to look Hanzo in the eye. 

 

Hanzo wasn’t especially good at reading people or even talking to them for that matter. At least he could try this... 

 

This... 

 

_ Wow _ .

 

Hanzo’s tired eyes sparked with astonishment and wonder, gasping in surprise. It prompted McCree to glance Hanzo draining his cup, he couldn’t help staring when Hanzo looked so soft and childlike. He felt something akin to pride well up in his chest. While he’d had to work the kettle more than a couple of times, it was quite something to have Hanzo look like he’d been served coffee from a world renowned barista. 

 

“How did you-?”

 

“Just had some experience. Suppose y’all never had a good cuppa.”

 

“Tch. I certainly wouldn’t have expected this to be your first batch, cowboy.”

 

“Well... Yeah. I’ve gotten a lot of experience over the years you might be surprised by. Wan’ another demonstration?” McCree flashed Hanzo a toothy grin that had his mouth twitching in amusement. 

 

“I don’t suppose financial troubles would be something in your range of expertise?”

 

“You tryin’ to drag me into y’alls work life? You know you shouldn’ bring up work on the first date.”

 

“I would insist on not bringing innuendos to the first date but you don’t hear me complaining.”

 

“What, my ass ain’t good ‘nough for ya?”

 

“Or course not, your mouth could use a bit more finesse though.”

 

McCree gripped his chest in mock hurt. “Ow... Darlin’? I think you just shot me.”

 

“I’m sure it’s not the first time.”

 

The cowboy chuckled. “I’m on the ground bleeding, doll! You gonna mock me while I’m down or carry me to your room for some first aid?”

 

“I’m sure you can drag yourself a few miles.”

 

“Cold.”

 

“We don’t have the funds for air conditioning, cowboy.”

 

McCree couldn’t help but bark out a laugh and Hanzo didn’t quite mind the loudness for once. By no means did he not find the other attractive, it simply wasn’t appropriate in their current circumstances. A shame. While Hanzo had courted more than his fair share of ladies (and men), he certainly hadn’t met someone who stuck around long enough to appreciate his sense of humour. 

 

“Want another cup or...?” 

 

Hanzo blinked, looking down to his empty cup and then back up to McCree. He held out his cup looking bashful. 

 

“If you wouldn’t mind, cowboy.”

 

McCree snickered and took the cup, yet chose to lean over Hanzo while their hands touched. “Y’all don’t gotta call me cowboy all the time.”

 

“McCree...?”

 

“Doll, don’ even gotta call me McCree. Jesse’ll do just fine.” he murmured lowly into Hanzo’s ear.

 

McCree parted from the other to top off Hanzo’s cup with more coffee, who was sitting there dumbfounded by the way. It was quirky how Hanzo could be stoic and serious one second then cute and embarrassed the next. McCree could admit he could see himself getting used to it... Could see himself dragging Hanzo around the world and just taking in his gorgeous, perfect smile. Genji would have liked to see that. Would have teased McCree if he could see him now. Then again, he could only imagine the disappointment on his friend’s face to see McCree acting as a lap dog for Talon. He shook his head in an attempt to ward off his memories. There wasn’t much point in mourning over his dead comrades now. 

 

McCree grabbed Hanzo’s attention with a wolf whistle when he stood in front of the other, he tilted his head and snickered at Hanzo’s sudden alertness. He walked towards the doorway and was happy to see Hanzo quickly stumble over his feet to follow suit. When McCree stopped at his quarters and handed Hanzo his coffee (McCree left his back at the break room), the latter quirked a brow.

 

“Co- Jesse, I do not think a coffee warrants us to sleep together.”

 

McCree chuckled and tapped in his passcode, the door opened and he slinked inside. Hanzo followed despite his mind screaming at him not to, his feet gaining a mind of their own. He attempted to soothe himself by savouring his coffee while he took in the room. It was fairly bare aside from the few piles of clothes strewn around, far better than anything Hanzo would have expected anyways. 

 

“For someone who doesn’t find us too acquainted, you ain’t had no trouble steppin’ in here.” McCree said, looking as smug as he sounded.

 

“I would be lying if I said curiosity didn’t get the better of me.” Hanzo’s hand wandered along some shelves. He pulled away and was surprised to find no dust coating the place. “This place certainly lacks a personal touch I would have expected.”

 

“You’re not the first to say that, yeah. I’m not too into westerns as people make out I am... Or, y’know, messy rooms.” McCree trailed off, watching Hanzo scope out his room systematically. 

 

“So why  _ did  _ you bring me in here?”

 

“I dunno, not for us to warm the bed despite what you may be thinkin’. Though I would like to get a few winks, I’m mighty tired...”

 

“Do you want me to read to you or-?”   
  


McCree stuttered in embarrassment. “Wh-! Like hell Hanzo!! I suppose I just ain’t gotten to feel this homey since Overwatch disbanded.”

 

“Hm...”

 

McCree patted down pants for something to smoke but could only find his lighter. He opened drawers, that proved to be just as impersonal and organised as the rest of McCree’s room, quickly finding some cheap cigarettes to light up.

 

“Well, nothing to dwell upon I suppose. Imma gun’ head outside for some fresh air. Don’t suppose you’re gonna to join me, Mr Shimada?”

 

“Don’t expect me to encourage your bad habits, I have work to get to anyways.”   
  
“What? I thought you finished up everything!”

 

“If only, Jesse… I have a meeting to prepare for.”

 

“Come on, Hanzo! I’m sure everything can be pulled togeth-”   
  
“ _ Cowboy _ .” McCree’s mouth clicked shut. “I am not of your concern. Not now, not tomorrow... And, if you’re lucky, not ever. You may think yourself obligated to tend to me on my brother’s behalf but I find it unfortunate enough he did not simply strike me down where I stood.”

 

“I ain’t feeling obligated-”

 

“Then let it rest at this if you want the best for yourself.”

 

McCree’s eyes sparked red, he growled. “Don’t assume you know me just cause you hate yourself.” 

 

Hanzo took a step back, biting his lip and treading carefully.

 

“I… I simply request we remain impersonal while in such a setting as we are now, Jesse. I didn’t intend to insult you.” McCree didn’t realise he had tensed until he felt his shoulders loosen up. “I assume I could echo those words back to you and there’d be no less truth though...”

 

“I- You-”

 

McCree heaved out a sigh and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, the caffeine not enough to ward off his tiredness. Everything ached. His mind, body and soul. Hanzo regretted his words.

 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll just put everything on the table, partner. My family? Broken and ruined. My gang’s been shut down and is rottin’ in jail. My friends? Can’t recognise who I am anymore. My mentors are all as good as dead... I ain’t a good person, I keep ruinin’ everything I touch and I’m so goddamn tired. I hate myself but at least it’s with good fucking reason.”

 

“A kin slayer is not worthy of self hatred?”

 

“Honey, I ain’t gonna go into the pretty details about my life. But y’know? You got forgiveness, you got closure, but you just keep tying yourself down. Think on that Hanzo.”

 

McCree bumped Hanzo on the way out, leaving him to stand there and mull over those words. That uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut again, what even was it? It was worse than bearing the hundreds of burdens from his clan, even worse than the sorrow he felt striking Genji down. How did the cowboy evoke such a feeling from him with a simple frown or bitter words?

 

Was it... Guilt?

 

Did he feel guilty? If so, what for?

 

Hanzo could never cope with his thoughts well and he swiftly left the cowboy’s room with one need in mind. Distractions. He needed distractions. He had no one to confide in, not even himself, and it wasn’t as if he would deserve someone to pour his feelings onto, his burdens. Hanzo would stave off his thoughts, like he always did, with work.

 

No cowboys, no siblings, no love life. Just piles of paperwork and numbers upon numbers to sift through.

  
Maybe if things were different... No. He couldn’t imagine it working even  _ if  _ things were different. 


	2. The Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree needed a smoke... He sometimes wonders how he got here in the first place.

It was a funny thing, knowing you were going to die. Knowing you were helpless. Knowing someone was walking, reloading, about to take your life without a second thought. McCree couldn’t feel his legs, he probably wouldn’t feel anything once a bullet was in his head.

 

Who knows what had gone wrong?

 

McCree should gotten out of the game while he was able to, should have seen the signs. He’d been so caught up in the grief of his mentor’s death that only now he was slapped awake. Only aware when it didn’t matter anymore. This was where he died. Widowmaker took her time strolling towards him, so uninterested in him and his life that she felt she could take all the time in the world. It was crippling McCree. 

 

“Hey, doll? Know you probably ain’t a fan of last requests but could ya listen for a sec’?”

 

She didn’t seem to process that McCree was even talking but he pressed on anyways. He winced out his last words. Something witty, that was always the way he wanted to be remembered. 

 

“Tell lil’ ol’ Sombra that I ain’t got nothin’ ‘gainst her. Tell her I’m hella sorry for wasting her time and... And make sure my hat gets put on Gabe’s grave.”

 

Goodbye Jesse McCree. 

 

. . .

 

But nothing came. 

 

McCree could still hear himself breathing, the fire crackling in the background. He opened his eyes to see Widowmaker listening intently to her comm, glancing at McCree with a bored expression. His eyes widened when she sat down next to him and waited silently. Nothing said. Nothing done. Just sitting next to him. 

 

Well then, he wasn’t dead... Yet. Maybe they were going to torture him for his information? Well, no. If they were then surely it would only have been relevant before they stormed base and took Overwatch down. What kind of Talon officer had insisted on keeping him here on Earth? There wasn’t anything he could possibly offer the organisation. Widowmaker checked her gun, one, two, three times. Waiting and not uttering a single word. If anyone had thought his life was worth anything, it wasn’t Widowmaker (that was damn obvious). She caught onto him staring at her, he made it a point to look onto the ruins of his home.

 

Genji... Reinhardt... Torbjorn... Good soldiers had fallen today. His family had been torn apart today. It should have been devastating but instead he was just  _ distant _ from the situation at hand, unable to grasp it. Instead, his old tape recorder was playing in his head again. He hadn’t been able to see anything with a bandana covering his eyes but the sounds flowed over him as clear as day. When it came off, there was Gabe. Gabe was  _ always  _ there.

 

When it came off today, Gabe wasn’t there anymore. 

 

Reaper’s boots kicked up dust is their wake. Grinding his teeth behind his mask, Reaper ghosted the battlefield unscathed. He scoffed at the remains of Overwatch and cursed them. Backtracking had been a pain in the ass when Talon found more than one Overwatch members snuck around them, perhaps planning to escape or flank their offenses. That hadn’t been why he’d come all this way. 

 

McCree. That’s who he’d come for. He was sure he could get that skunk of a cowboy working for Talon, that’s what he’d said. Reaper had been a reliable and loyal asset, and so anyone Reaper could get his hands on must be of  _ some  _ worth. Reaper hadn’t expected McCree to still be in this stinking hell hole though, nor did he expect to find the man in shock. He growled at his associate.

 

“Widow...”

 

“I did not have the equipment to tend to him, you asked me to stay posted at his location.”

 

He sighed and shoved the rubble off of Jesse’s legs with ease. The cowboy’s hand was twitching and his breathing was shallow, his legs didn’t so much as flinch. That wasn’t good. “Where is everyone?”

 

“Not here, evidently. Akande must have hauled them off somewhere else.”

 

“Typical.”

 

“He is not the one vouching for a cowboy’s life, can you blame him?”

 

“Help me get him to the ship,  _ Widow _ .”

 

Widow mumbled a French slur under her breath that Reaper couldn't care enough to catch. They linked arms to form a seat, Reaper propping up Jesse’s back. It would have been easier if they had Moira here, god knows they needed her right now. It took half an hour before they could rest McCree on a stretcher, both Widow and Reaper rolled their stiff shoulders. 

 

“I am going to report to Akande. If you care so much about the cowboy then you can treat him as you see fit, I’m not the one who decided to haul him here.”

 

“Then haul  _ your _ ass out of my god damn sight, Widow.” he bit out. She sighed and turned away with her gun by her side, leaving Reaper to his own devices. 

 

Reaper murmured to himself, running his claws through Jesse’s unruly hair. He’d never encouraged McCree to grow his hair out, it was unprofessional, but it sure looked good on the man. Poor cowboy, he looked so tired. Must have been through hell by this point... Reaper wondered why McCree hadn’t simply left after he died, maybe he underestimated the cowboy’s will. 

 

Reaper pulled away flannel from Jesse’s wounds, wincing in time with the cowboy. He washed off the dirt and grime but not able to stand Jesse cringing in pain for long. Jesse exhaled sharply when Reaper pressed down a little too hard. He was murmuring and his hand was still twitching. 

 

“F- fuck...” 

 

“Cállate. Silencio.”

 

Jesse swallowed. “G- Gabe... I- I think I lost more than my arm this time...”

 

Reaper sighed, of course Jesse was acting delusional. “Don’t worry Jess, your legs will get better yet.”

 

“G- Gabe...?” Jesse clung onto Reaper’s arm, trembling in fear. “Promise me you won’t leave...”

 

“I’ll wait for the dawn, Jess. Goodnight.” Reaper covered Jesse’s eyes and waited for him to drop back out of consciousness. Reaper hung his head, defeated.

 

Was this all he could do?

 

Would it even be worth it in the end? 

 

His body burnt off in smoky trails like a dying flame.

 

McCree groaned, his legs numb as he rested over the balcony railing. He lifted his weight up and whimpered. His feet were pins and needles, leaving him swaying a little as he tried to get the blood flowing again. McCree gripped and ungripped the empty space with his hand, rubbing his face in an attempt to warm himself up.

 

Darn cold must have gotten him moving. 

 

McCree shook his vast cigarette box and cursed. He bent over picking up what he assumed to be his last cigarette he failed to finish before he passed out. His metal phalanges scrambled for his source of warmth. McCree lit the dying cigarette and took long drags. One might mistake it as an attempt to rid the chill in his dry mouth that worked down his throat to his lungs, maybe even the chill in his heart. But despite the warmth flowing through him, he still shivered.

 

He waited for the dawn. 

 


	3. Yes Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo isn't the kind to help another person out, he couldn't afford to be. He insisted that he was only helping McCree out because it was grinding on his nerves.

“What  _ are  _ you doing?”

 

“Restin’.”

 

“Just because your head is lying on a table does not mean you are resting.”

 

McCree pillowed his head with an arm, laying on his desk which just so happened to be covered in binders he hadn’t gotten around to putting away. He snuggled back into the crook of his arm and grumbled...  _ Until  _ he realised Hanzo wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. McCree lifted his head and blinked sleepily, rubbing drool away from his mouth. 

 

“Hm...?” McCree didn’t know what information Hanzo wanted, he guessed. “Ain’t nothin’ you need to worry about. I gotta help out Moira in the lab and thought I’d catch a few winks...” 

 

Hanzo didn’t look impressed in the slightest but it seemed McCree guessed right. “For someone only here for field work, you seem to get dragged about the place left and right.”

 

“Naw. Just keeping busy...”

 

“Busy?”

 

“Eyup.” Jesse popped the ‘p’ out. Hanzo  gave McCree and incredulous look, eyes flickering up and down. 

 

“Jesse McCree, this is not keeping busy, this is keeping yourself up at night.”

 

“Well I’ll be, unless you have something better for me to do, imma gun’ go to her right now.”

 

“You will not.”

 

“Yes I will.”

 

“I’m going with you.”

 

“What?”

 

“ _I’m_ _going with you._ ”

 

“No!! Christ, Hanzo! I don’t need you watching over me like a hawk!!”

 

“I’m only curious.”

 

“No, y’all are gonna be  _ judgin’  _ me!”

 

“ _ Helping _ .”

 

McCree knew that look well. That was what Hanzo looked like when he was sure he had already won. A challenge? Well, he wasn’t just going to roll over and give Hanzo what he wanted... He’d be damned if Jesse McCree backed down from a challenge. 

 

“Y’er as stubborn as a mule...”

 

“So then get it over with, Jesse.”

 

“Maybe I will.” McCree puffed out his chest and stood up tall, knocking over a few papers astray in his wake. That certainly did not help his case. He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling and embarrassed. “I um... I’ll get that there later.”

 

Hanzo kept to himself in the lab, shadowing McCree.

 

Moira was constantly at McCree whenever she got him free of the tangles of other assistants, all working on their own projects. Hanzo narrowed his eyes at every single one of them but he still kept to himself, barely. He was almost able to tune the sounds of the labs out until another ‘Hey McCree!’ had him on alert again. Hanzo hadn’t so much as bothered McCree with any of his work, though it appeared the cowboy was quite talented at adapting. Even if Hanzo was sure McCree couldn’t understand half of the jargon thrown around, it was certainly something to behold. 

 

“Ah... I’m not sure.”

“Boy howdy, looking good!”

“What did y’all need help with?”

“Mhm...?”

“Mighty fine work, gentlemen.” 

“Lookin’ pretty good to me.”

 

McCree was dragged halfway around the world and Hanzo was  _ this  _ close to taking matters into his own hands. He opened his mouth to tell McCree as such but his attention was drawn away from him  _ again _ , much to Hanzo’s building frustration. His mouth clicked shut and he bit his tongue. By the time they escaped from the confines of the lab, Hanzo had had enough.

 

“You have a problem.”

 

“Hm...?”

 

“Jesse, you’ve accepted up to a week of work. Probably more when I wasn’t looking.”

 

“Did I?” McCree tried smirking, as if calling out a bluff, but it dropped when he saw Hanzo didn’t yield. 

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“Oh...”

 

“Just let me talk from now on while you go on your errands _. _ ”

 

McCree groaned and followed Hanzo, complaining about how unfair and utterly ridiculous he was being. A woman with blonde hair and a comforting smile walked past them in the hallways, only to then turn and wave to them before there was too much distance between them. 

 

“McCree, do you have a minute?”

 

“Ah, yea-”

 

“No, he’s busy.” Hanzo interrupted flatly. 

 

“Ah... I see? Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you McCree.” She looked between McCree and Hanzo with a brow cocked up. 

 

McCree jabbed Hanzo with his elbow, unappreciative of the interruption. Hanzo coughed a little but chose to glare at the woman rather than McCree. McCree cleared his throat and continued. “Well, I mean... Whatcha want me to do?”

 

“Oh! It’s simple really, we’re going over the ventilati-”

 

“Why is that of his concern?” McCree grit his teeth. 

 

“O- oh... Well you see we’re under-”

 

“We don’t pay you to take turns plucking willing Talon agents from the halls  to do your job for you.” McCree’s face flashed with a flurry of emotions which Hanzo ignored in favour of continuing. “If there's only one of you on duty, you’re certainly being lenient with your breaks. Get yourselves together or  _ scram _ . Dismissed.”

 

“W- well-” McCree bit his lip and tipped his hat, apologetic. Her eyes flickered between the two. To McCree, to Hanzo, back to McCree... “I um... Sorry. B- bye?” 

 

She grumbled to herself and shuffled away, looking to now be in a sour mood. McCree snapped his head to Hanzo and growled.

 

“Just what the  _ fuck  _ are you doing!? That was rude!”

 

“Then how would you be polite?”

 

“I would have-!” Would have helped out. Would have said yes. Would have gone with her and done everything out of insistence. Would have- “I’m... Beginning to see your point.”

 

“I told you.”

 

McCree’s eyes widened in a moment of self realisation. “Oh god. I thought you were just bein’ worried.”

 

“My worry has nothing to do with you burying yourself in others problems.”

 

“How long have you noticed me doing this?”

 

“Not long after I joined.”

 

Months? No... That was only since Hanzo joined. He’d been at it longer. “Aw hell...”

 

“There we go.”

 

Hanzo knew he had won from the beginning and McCree had just walked into it. He had a problem. “End my life, darlin’.”

 


	4. Jessito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra and McCree like to have a drink every now and again. They were having a good time until Sombra’s playful hacking has them both reeling.

“Want some tequila, Jessito?”

 

“I know ya Sombra, gon’ get me drunk and have me spillin’ my feelings out?”

 

“Nooo, just some tequila to calm the nerves.” McCree shrugged and took the iced tequila Sombra held out for him. “You say this like it’s something I’d do.”

 

“Sombra, you do this all the time.”

 

She chuckled, McCree rolled his eyes and gazed into the liquor’s reflection. They both sat cross legged on two couches, opposite each other and separated by a single coffee table. It wasn’t a break room or a meeting room, when they first came, but it was certainly Sombra’s territory now. The cushions were firm but comfortable and McCree sighed as he sunk into it’s embrace, the tequila cool but still serving to warm up his insides. 

 

It was very familiar to McCree, him and Sombra had been drinking buddies before he’d joined Talon. He hadn’t left the best impression now that he thought back on it, being the emotional drunk he was, but Sombra had been nice enough to stick around and drag him home. Hell, she held his hair back while he hurled into a toilet, in between some ranting about how his life had gone to the dogs. McCree had initially called her up for business but it had shifted into an unexpected friendship. He was grateful. 

 

“Jessito! If anything, I only do this majority of the time!! But yeah, tell me what’s on your mind before the alcohol hits you hard.”

 

“I dunno... You hung around Hanzo?” Sombra leaned over the table, eyes and smile wide, begging for more. Jesse knew better than to back off after throwing the girl a bone, she could be ruthless when she was curious. “We’ve been... Hangin’ out. He’s awfully nice and hella charmin’ but I dunno what to make of it.”

 

“Hm... Haven’t got to, not really. I asked him about what he was doing here.” She cleared her throat and attempted to drop the pitch of her voice, it sounded strained and utterly ridiculous. McCree snorted in an attempt in hold back his laughter. “‘I am here for a favour and free dental care.’ What a dork! He killed his brother and led a criminal empire, sure, but he’s not a monster as far as I can tell.”

 

“Obviously! You know what he did last Tuesday? He cut me down on a hella ton of work and then insisted on helping me with what work I  _ did  _ have!! Like it ain’t no big deal!”

 

“Oh my, how scandalous Jessito~.”

 

“I’m not sure whether to be grateful or damn frustrated!!” 

 

“You’re falling ten miles deep for him, Jessito. Your ears are turning red.”

 

“Oh fuck.”

 

McCree covered his face which was halfway between looking embarrassed or agitated. When he looked up again it was to Sombra’s eyes glinting with mischief. Uh oh. Sombra slammed down her glass, ignoring the spider web of cracks that on the previously pristine surface. McCree jolted up and soiled his shirt with tequila, frowning. 

 

“YES!! FUCK!!! OKAY JESSITO, WE GON’ HOOK YOU UP WITH THIS JAPANESE PLAYBOY!!”

 

“Sombra... No... “

  
“SOMBRA YES!! I reckon I could discern all his kinks and interests if I go through his internet history!!!”

 

“Why would you- I don’t even wanna know Som’... Just don’t-”

 

She already had a screen up, her fingers flying across it. 

 

“Hacking complete.”

 

“sOM _ BRA!!! _ ”

 

McCree ignored the liquor and glass, shattered and running off the small table, in favour of jumping forward to thwart Sombra’s plans. She playfully kept him at arm’s length and scrolled through hundreds of titles. The playfulness on her face turned to something solemn the longer she spent. Sombra was snapped out of her thoughts when McCree was sprawled so far across the table he almost ate Sombra’s shoes.    
  


“Well, I can tell you he doesn’t go to any porn sites.”

 

“Oh thank god...“

 

“Buuut he haaas been looking through Overwatch articles...?“

 

“Wh- Really?”

 

He craned his neck to look up, Sombra huffed. “Get up Jessito, this you gotta see.” 

 

He pushed himself up with a grunt. McCree walked around to the back of Sombra’s couch and leaned over her shoulder, idly brushing off bits of broken glass. That was a lot of websites, Hanzo must have been doing some extremely intense research. He whistled, impressed, and Sombra nodded in agreement. McCree leaned further over Sombra’s shoulder to scroll through himself, he didn’t recognise a lot of the websites but some caught his eye as the subjects of Gabe’s migraines. 

 

Journals, forums, conspiracy theories, articles, news reports... He chose to turn away when he spotted more than one focusing on Joel Morricone. 

 

“This guy is intense, Jessito.”

 

“You betcha Som’.”

 

“I wonder what spurred him on, Overwatch business isn’t any of his concern...”   
  


“I think we both got at least one person on our minds.” McCree grumbled.

 

“That’s narcissistic buuut I can see where you’re coming from.”

 

McCree pulled away from the screen and hummed to himself. “Come on, get off that before you stumble across something you don’t wanna see.”

 

“Aaaw, come on Jessito!”

 

“Sombra... I don’t wanna think about what Hanzo looks at when he’s alone.” She pouted and the screen flickered away. “Were you actually serious?”

 

“Naw! You guys are nasty, I’ve made that mistake before.” 

 

McCree eyed her suspiciously. “Who?”   
  


“Gabe has some really weird kinks...”

 

That was an even worse image in McCree’s mind. Sombra laughed at the cowboy’s horrified and disgusted expression. They idly continued conversation but dismissed themselves when they couldn’t keep up anymore, even with the assistance of the liquor. There was still a nagging thought...

 

What was Hanzo thinking about?

  
  



	5. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Social gatherings weren’t Hanzo’s thing but McCree is going to drag him along, whether he likes it or not.

“Oh yeah, we practice with standards arms every now and again. Just some pistols, shotguns... “

 

“Just to be prepared?”

 

“Jus’ to be prepared.”

 

Hanzo wasn’t going to get out of this, now that McCree had caught him firing arrows out on the range. It wasn’t that Hanzo was particularly busy, he’d binged through his work and delegated tasks. No. It was the fact that he’d only considered McCree to be worthwhile socialising with. He drew back his arm and released another arrow, it worked its way into the bullseye next to its brothers. 

 

McCree was rugged and easy to socialise with. Sombra was a quirky spirit that probably gets into far more trouble than he could bargain for. Reaper was distant and far too solemn for his tastes. Widowmaker was cold and unresponsive. Moira was... A mad scientist. Yes. She was a mad scientist. Whereas Hanzo could find common ground with McCree, he feared he wouldn’t be able to ever click with anyone else. In a professional setting he’d have no problem being dragged along with the team but this was a personal gettogether, a social gathering of sorts. 

 

Hanzo would find himself being the odd one out, again. 

 

He spoke his thoughts. “McCree, this is not a good idea.” 

 

“Why’s that Hanzo?”

 

Hanzo marched over to the targets to retrieve his arrows. “You socialise and drink and talk while I... Work.”

 

“Nothing wrong with that.”

 

He ripped out an arrow. “What am I meant to talk about, my past?”

 

“The weather is a good start.”

 

Hanzo held the arrow close to his chest and breathed. 1... 2... 3... “What happens if I say something they don’t like?”

 

“Han,” McCree rested a gentle hand on the shoulder. “why are you getting so worked up about this?”

 

“. . . I’ve... I’ve never been a fan of social gatherings. It’s always a matter of keeping up appearances or you just might get a knife in your back...”

 

“Oh.”

 

“When you’re all the way up here-” Hanzo held his arrow up horizontally, setting a bar above his head. “-that leaves everyone below you wanting you dead.”

 

He lowered the arrow and sighed. “Hanzo, we ain’t gon’ get offended if you’re being yourself. I mean, take a gander.  _ We  _ got no reason to judge.”

 

“. . .”

 

“When I was part of Deadlock, I was down here.” McCree led Hanzo’s arrow to set the bar low, so close to the ground they both kneeled. “I thought people above me had it easy, I damned them to go to hell... But I’ve met people like you. People ain’t bad until you get to know ‘em, that’s what my momma told me.”

 

“I- I understand.”

 

“Will you give it a try?”

  
Hanzo looked into those gorgeous pools of brown and couldn’t stop his answer from tumbling out of his mouth. “Of course, Jesse.”

 

They both stood up, McCree with a dumb and blinding smile on his face. Hanzo thought it was absolutely adorable.

 

“Hoo boy! Sombra is gon’ be as rowdy as a rattlesnake!”

 

Hanzo was doomed. 

 

His knuckles were white from clenching onto his bow like a lifeline. Just walk out. Just walk out. Just walk out. Nope. Hanzo’s body was protesting against willingly subjecting itself to being in the presence of others. 

 

Jesse will be there.

What if I make a fool of myself?

They won’t judge you.

What if they ask about your past?

You’re safe.   
What if they try to kill you?

 

Hanzo gritted his teeth through his thoughts and stepped inside. He made a beeline to McCree as soon as he saw him, moving hastily before he could turn tail and back out. McCree caught sight of him. Here goes nothing... 

 

“Hanzo!”

“Que?”

“Bonjour.”

“Greetings.”

“. . .”

 

He was starting to feel more misfit by the second.

 

Sombra was holding onto McCree’s gun, his hat too big on her head and threatening to tip over. This left McCree with his, previously concealed, locks left out and proving to be longer than Hanzo thought. Widowmaker wasn’t too far from their side but look uninterested, as per usual. Moira and Reaper were off to the side, the scientist appeared to be giving Reaper an improvised checkup. 

 

Hanzo didn’t have much time to think about it as Sombra jumped in front of him and demanded her attention with a finger gun. “Hey, hey! Look at me amigo! ‘I’m Jesse McCree and I looove to dress up as a cowboy even though I ain’t rode no horses in my life!’”

 

“She’s as stuck up as a pony.”

 

“Which is the only thing you’ve ever ridden... Hey, Hanzo! He’s only watched two cowboy movies in his life. He watches them on repeat every Saturday when no one is around and the names of them ar-”

 

McCree tipped his hat over Sombra’s face, interrupting her. “That’s enough lil’ missy, your hat privileges are revoked.” 

 

“Aaaw... “

 

McCree snatched his hat off Sombra’s head before she could run away with it. He ruffled his hair and placed the hat snuggly on his head, where is belonged. He turned his attention back to Hanzo, he was looking dumb and at a loss of what to do. “Sorry, don’t mind Sombra.”

 

Hanzo nodded. Poor guy. McCree opened his mouth to speak, something to put Hanzo more at ease, when a french accent jumped in.

 

“It will be nice to have another sniper on our team, I don’t think Moira could handle another fool rushing into battle.” Widow’s gun was draped over her shoulder. “I’d like to see your skill monsieur, I have only heard of your prowess as an archer.”

 

Everyone blinked, stunned into silence. Realising Widowmaker was expecting an answer he quietly cleared his throat. “It would be my pleasure, if only you could give me a show of your own. Your reputation is one heard by many.”

 

“That is quite the modest request, I accept.”

 

McCree and Sombra looked at each other, clearly not sure what to feel. Hanzo caught McCree’s eyes. He furrowed his brows, walking to Widow’s side.  _ What’s going on?  _ The cowboy’s face only read utter confusion and uncertainty, a slight shrug.  _ I honestly dunno.  _

 

“Merci beaucoup. I encourage you to take the first shot.”

 

“Of course.”

 

He trained his eye onto the soft target next to Widow’s. Hanzo rolled his shoulders and carefully drew back his bow string. He paid no mind to the arrow as he let it run free, working itself into the bullseye of the target just as he’d intended. Hanzo palmed his shoulder, having not stretched beforehand could lead to some trouble. 

 

“Que captura, Jessito!” McCree elbowed Sombra in her side. “Quiere decir, nice shot playboy!”

 

“What?”

 

“Hanzo. I said Hanzo.” 

 

“Elle est un imbécile... Ignore her monsieur, she is always like this.” Hanzo turned to see Widow peering through her scope, focused intently on her target. Several rounds were fired into the head of her target, after which she straightened her back and relaxed. “Parfait.”

 

“Hm, nice shot.”

 

“You have not seen me in the field, you have no frame of reference.” 

 

“It is rather lackluster on stationary targets, isn’t it?”

 

Widow quirked a brow, clearly amused. “You understand my pain monsieur. It is nice to have someone see my perspective of things... These meetings are the bane of my existence, though perhaps more tolerable with you here?”

 

Hanzo saw her words as what it was.  _ Are you going to be coming more often?  _ “The same could be said on my part.” 

 

She nodded, mouth twitching up in a hint of a smile. Hanzo could handle this, this was far more manageable than what he had imagined. Widow was striding towards another part of the range, nodding her head as an invitation to Hanzo. He bowed to McCree and Sombra, who were too busy fussing over something in Spanish to notice, following after Widow. 

 

“-no lo sé, Sombra!”

 

“ _ You’re useless. _ ”

 

“ _ Sombra, I never said anything otherwise. _ ”

 

“ _ I think it’s good they’ve found company in each other. _ ”

 

“ _ Well, yeah... _ ”

 

“ _ You better not be jealous of Widow, Jessito. _ ”

 

“ _ Wh- No! _ ”

 

“ _ You two are idiots. _ ” A low spanish accent interjected, a hand on both of their heads. “Stop giggling like teenage girls over here.”

 

“ **Sorry Gabe.** ” The two said in time, looking guilty as if their parent had called them out.

 

Reaper lifted his hands and walked around them. “Hanzo Shimada, could I have your attention for a second?”

 

Widow and Hanzo sighed in time, expressions blank. “Yes, Sir?”

 

“Moira here is scheduled to have some extra checkups with you.”

 

Widow murmured something in French. “Why is that?”

 

“Just some things that need to be cleared up.”

 

“Understood... “

 

Hanzo sighed and listened to Reaper’s boots click. He scoffed and turned back to Widow to continue socialising. Socialising... Maybe there was hope for him yet. He found himself lost in conversation with the woman, she apparently had quite the interest is ballet. He, in turn, discussed his fascination with illustration. 

 

“Hey, Hanzo. I’m gonna be heading back to my quarters, try to get some sleep tonight?”

 

Hanzo stared at his watch. 22:54 “Ah, enjoy your rest McCree.”

 

“You too... “

 

“I should probably turn in for tonight as well...”

 

“Oh là là! Pardon moi monsieur, I did not mean to keep you.”

 

“Apologies are unnecessary, I appreciate your company. Until next time?”

 

“Oui.” Widow nodded in affirmation. She turned back to her targets to practice, Hanzo idly wondered how long she spent training. 

 


	6. Wikihow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree's free schedule has been bothering him more than he would have liked... Hanzo has been buried in paperwork and needs some help.

Clipped footsteps echoed back and forth in the living space. McCree’s serape and equipment was thrown hastily across his bed. It was the only mess about after McCree had thoroughly cleaned the quarters from top to bottom, the beginnings of intense boredom tingling his insides. McCree’s finger twitched for his gun trigger once, twice... He assumed he made quite the ruckus as Hanzo strided in and made his home in front of McCree’s desk. 

 

Hanzo was still for a while before he swiveled in his seat.  When swiveling in his seat passed he tapped his foot. He then opened the drawers and skimmed through freshly organised binders. That’d only entertained him for so long, all of this served to grow tiresome for the scion and he must have thought it best to simply wait until McCree eventually talked. 

 

McCree’s paced quickened under Hanzo’s stare and he gave in. “Ah, fuck me Hanzo! I’m not used to all this free time!!”

 

Hanzo sighed, exasperated. “Don’t you have any hobbies?” 

 

“Well... “ McCree rolled over his thoughts, remembering calming afternoons with a stick and a knife. “I did do some wood carving before.”

 

“Wood carving, you say?” Hanzo perked up.

 

“Oh yeah, not very good though. Hm... Hang on a second.” McCree shuffled around his room and opened drawers. Eventually he found what he was looking for. Taking a deep breath of nature in was such a relief, a juxtaposition to his sterile surroundings. “These are my works.”

 

Hanzo joined him by his side, gently picking up bits and pieces. Flowers, chess pieces, knives... “Impressive.”

 

“Aw shucks, yer gon’ make me blush.”

 

“This is fine work for a simple knife... “ Hanzo held up a small wooden horse. “Have you thought about doing it as a profession?”

 

“Naw, don’t think anyone’d be interested.” 

 

“You’d have one customer. I find it a shame that you’ve stopped, maybe we could go on an outing for some wood.”

 

McCree opened his mouth to say he’s too busy for such a frivolous outing, then he remembered that he didn’t have much work anymore. It was tempting, to say the least. McCree missed going outside, getting fresh air... He felt an ache in his chest he hadn’t realised was even there, he didn’t want to stay inside much longer. He wanted to feel soft grass give beneath his boots, to find home underneath a tree and rest, to let the sounds of nature wrap him up in a warm blanket that reminded him of-

 

“That’d be nice...” He murmured, rolling a small wooden ball over in his palm. 

 

“Well, if you’re still up for some work then I think I have something you can assist me with...”

 

McCree was woken up from his daze. “Assist? Wait, wait, wait... You want my help? Is that why you came here?”

 

Hanzo slumped over, guilt radiating off of him. He almost whimpered and McCree felt obligation grip him. “Please...”

 

“Of course partner, the least I could do.”

 

McCree collected his works and laid them back in the draw hastily. Hanzo seemed to take care not to damage anything, the sentiment got a smile playing at McCree’s lips. He pushed the drawer closed and reached for his usual serape. He hesitated at the last moment, drawing his hands back and instead pointing to his shirt. 

 

“Could I stay in this? I’m not too bothered to change an’...”

 

Hanzo took a double take of McCree. He was in a thin and black polyester shirt that Hanzo identified as a part of his battle outfit, Hanzo almost hadn’t picked it out. Did McCree feel exposed without his armour on top? 

 

“You can dress how you want, we’ll only be in my quarters.”

 

“ _ Your  _ quarters, huh? Funny how this is the only way I’m gonna be able to see it.” Realisation washed over Hanzo. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’ mind ya coming and going, would have locked the door if I did.”

 

“I... Apologise nonetheless. It seems short sighted of me never to have at least let you  _ see  _ my quarters, especially when I frequent yours.”

 

“C’mon Han, we got locks for a reason.” 

 

McCree followed Hanzo to the door.

 

He didn’t miss the way Hanzo hesitated leaving the comfort of his quarters. 

 

McCree leaned over Hanzo’s shoulder to pick up the paper and read over it. “Crazy lingo you got on here, no wonder you’re always in a sour mood...”

 

“I usually have a migraine, yes. I admit the burden is lighter on my mind with you here though... “

 

“I doubt I’m much he-”

 

“Don’t finish that or I will tear you  _ limb  _ from  _ limb _ , McCree. This is  _ far  _ less grinding than if I were alone.  _ Again _ .” Hanzo bit his lip, a nervous habit if McCree had to guess. “Sorry... I’m just...”

 

“Uhm... Naw, I gotcha. I think any amount of this work would drive anyone up the wall.”

 

McCree strolled around Hanzo and dropped into the chair the scion had out. They’d initially been on either side of the desk but, after McCree had asked more than a few times about the vocabulary, now they were seated next to each other. Hanzo would sit poised and collected, aside from biting his lip harshly, while McCree’s knee wouldn’t stop moving and he shifted in his seat. 

 

“So um... Why me?”

 

“Hm...?”

 

“Why me?” McCree repeated. “Why not someone with experience, someone not gonna bother you every few seconds?”

 

“Jesse, you are far more capable than you make yourself out to be.” McCree mumbled, Hanzo looked over the top of some paper at the cowboy. “Pardon?”

 

“..i.....i doubt it... “

 

Hanzo quirked a brow and laid the paperwork on the table. His hands intertwined together and his elbows on the table, hands obscuring his mouth and positioned as if supporting his weight. Hanzo’s eyes bore into McCree and McCree could almost feel a physical force pinning him where he sat. He jumped when Hanzo leaned forward suddenly and held his jaw, forcing McCree to look into dark pools of grey. McCree was leaning back in his seat while Hanzo studied him carefully. 

 

“P- partner?” 

 

McCree was attempting desperately to look anywhere except Hanzo’s eyes. The scion collapsed back into his seat and rubbed his temple. The cowboy was almost panicking at this point, figuring out what Hanzo had been searching for. Did he find it? Was it possible for someone to really look into your soul? Into your being? What was he looking for? Why was he looking for it? Did he find  _ it _ ?

 

“ _ You’re... I don’t understand. Why? Why are you-... I don’t understand. What are you? How are you here? _ ”

 

Hanzo bit his lip and collapsed forward, tugging at his hair. Murmuring to himself in Japanese which McCree could recognise but never hope to understand. 

 

They stopped talking after that. 

 

McCree had only stopped when the words became a smear of black ink on the paper, his eyes refusing to focus. He held his head in his hands, glancing at Hanzo passed out on his desk. He stood and wandered to Hanzo’s closet, blinking when he initially spotted some very casual clothing. McCree pulled out a jacket and carefully laid it on top of Hanzo’s shoulders, the latter only shifting slightly in response.

 

McCree’s hand lingered.

 

He ignored it. 

 

Shoving a hand into his pants he fished out a cigarette. Forgetting that he’d even touched Hanzo for a moment. 

  
  



	7. Behind The Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of things people still don't know about Reaper.

Reaper was an enigma. Not for a lack of knowledge on the man, it was a given that everyone on base knew his name. They knew his name, his reputation, his friends... Yet, despite everything, his mask still hid so much of him. Every expression and every emotion was a mystery to his many peers. It would remain to be a mystery. For now, the man he is was only in the hands of few and far between. For now, that man was mostly confined to his quarters. 

 

He loathed everything about the Talon base, it all looked the same. Not in the sense that the colour scheme had him reeling. It was the memories it brought back. They all looked the same to him. Every single operation he counted down to while was in one of these rooms. Reyes would sit alongside his comrades and count, knowing that someone would die. He hated it, always dragged back to continue counting. 

 

People died and it was a fact. Every soldier would be faced with it at some point in their life. While some could see it as a fleeting silver lining, there was no comfort in it for him. That was his fault, that sense of morality his commanders both respected and looked down upon. Not pulling the trigger when his gun was pointed at the weak, defenseless and innocent. That was his fault. 

 

But Sombra liked him for that. 

 

That’s why Sombra didn’t hide from Reaper. One day it’d get them  _ both  _ into a lot of trouble. For now? Why not let her run around on her own errands. Neither of them could have cared less for Talon either way. A lot of them couldn’t have cared for Talon either way. He would snap at her to keep on track, to stick to the mission at it were. He would bite out Spanish in her ear and look down upon her. She would only look up and smirk knowingly, knowing that he was a man of morality over Talon. 

 

He shook his head, stumbling out of the fog of his thoughts. 18:43. Reyes growled, staring hard at his cracked complexion. His face was riddled in scars and burns, his body a passing thought. He only looked more ugly when the mirror broke off into slivers of glass, a hate fueled outburst from long ago to blame. Once Reyes could have looked at himself a proud man but now there was only bad memories associated with his reflection. 

 

It was easy to think himself as smoke. Something that choked you in its presence and left a bad smell afterwards, it may just end up the death of you if you weren’t careful.

 

Jess...

 

God, he loved that kid like a father would a son. Reyes wished McCree didn’t walk around him, avoiding him. He wanted to wake up and smell the coffee Jess insisted on brewing everyone in the morning, along with the smell of some dirt cheap cigarettes. He couldn’t help but admit it reminded him of home. They’d sit down at the table with Ana and Fareeha like a big, happy family. He still remembered the cups that Jess picked up for everyone, though some had been swapped and replaced. 

 

He had cups with some stupid quote on it (that’d make him snort in delight and Jess’ eyes light up), Jess always picked out the plainest ones for himself, the cowboy cups were for Fareeha afterall and Ana’s ornate cups were always detailed in beautiful gold paints.  _ Cups  _ by the way. The amount of times Tracer had dropped or knocked cups while speeding around the place... Well, they had to put up a sign for no running. That girl was in too much of a rush. 

 

Oh and Jess had taken note for sure. Sometimes he handed Tracer a cup with hand painted tally marks on it. She pouted everytime and everyone had a good laugh about it. Jess would stand around and listen intently to everyone, kid caught onto conversations well for his age. Seemed to know what to say even if he had no idea what some terms thrown about even were... Well, that remained a constant, Reyes thought to himself. From the battlefield to the sickbay the conversations would twist and turn while everyone flowed through like traffic, stopping every now and again for a talk but always moving. 

 

Reinhardt would always get served coffee in some kind of mug left over from father’s day, meanwhile Torbjorn was left with the Christmas mugs (Reyes was sure that had been a purposeful arrangement), Angela and Moira both had glass or metal cups of some caliber and Brigitte always insisted on a cup with some fluffy animal on it. He couldn’t recall well but he was sure Jess and Genji were the last ones hanging about most of the time, bonding over making tea and coffee... It was good to see them get along.

 

Jack never showed up. 

 

Reaper clawed at the dresser, scarring it further than it already was. His jawed ached and he would have stood there for hours if his comm didn’t blair incessantly. Mission. He skimmed over the details meticulously out of habit, always prepared to give a debriefing of some kind. 

 

Hanzo, McCree and himself had a mission.

 

Hanzo, there was a new face. How could he possibly describe the man? He was cold, impersonal, stoic... Yet quirky and unique to be sure. It was almost like someone was flipping a coin over and over again, which side faces up is unknown until caught. It was both entertaining and infuriating. Luckily for Reaper, Hanzo was mostly stuck in his office up until this point. Now that he was on a mission though? It was something that could be quite problematic to work with. 

 

He would find a way around it, like he almost always has. Reaper put the mask back on. He would remain a mystery yet. 

  
  



	8. Kin Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honey, I ain’t gonna go into the pretty details about my life. But y’know? You got forgiveness, you got closure, but you just keep tying yourself down. Think on that Hanzo.”

He was sobbing. He was over her body and sobbing. He was watching her bleed. Their blood. It was everywhere. She was dying. 

 

“Mom, are you okay?”

 

He was crying. He knew. She was dying and he knew. He wanted to scream. Scream that he knew. Her blood was everywhere. Their blood. Everywhere. Always. Soaking the rags he pressed into her wounds. She was bleeding. Stop it. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. It was getting everywhere. 

 

“I’m fine Jesse... “

 

She was not fine. Her blood was smeared across the dirt, the shades of red bleeding into one another. He was sobbing. He was crying. He was screaming. She was dying in front of his eyes. At his hands. She was dying. Stop. Please. You don’t understand. It was all over him. The blood was all over him.

 

“Do you hate me?”

 

She shook her head. He was crying. She was dying. She was bleeding. It was everywhere. Red was everywhere. There was no colour. It was everywhere. He didn’t want his life to be like this. He was dying. Dying. Again. He was dying again. His blood was everywhere.

 

“I- I’m just a little scared... “

 

STOP IT. 

 

“Scared of me?”

 

“ **S T O P  I T .** ”

 

He couldn’t watch anymore.

 

But then someone was-  **“-JESSE!!”**

 

McCree jolted upright, sweating profusely. The air hit him and chilled his skin while he tried to get his bearings. There was no blood. There was no gun. There was no desert. It was just him in his quarters. He gripped his head and heaved through his lungs, on the brink of hyperventilating. His eye was burning, as if boiling inside his very own skull and distracting him from the goosebumps trailed along his arm. 

 

He didn’t keep track of the time, he just kept breathing through gritted teeth. It’d ticked over to 01:24 before McCree came back to reality. The bright, searing hot pain had passed over and instead left behind a dull ache in its wake. He could already feel his throat was scratchy and hoarse, he’d need water unless he could find some way to miraculously avoid everyone today. McCree slapped his face lightly and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

 

He forced himself to his feet despite the urge to curl up in a corner until someone came for him. Then what? They’d see he’s barely slept and has been crying? He couldn’t do that. His stomach rumbled, as it always seemed to in the middle of the night. McCree stretched on the way to his bathroom.

 

He didn’t bother turning on the lights, his surroundings bright as day. McCree looked in the mirror, not liking the mess of a man he saw. People can say what they want about how McCree dresses but he kept himself tidy as hell. Not being tidy was distressing to McCree, he found himself extremely self conscious at the worst of times. If he wasn’t cleaned up then something was awfully wrong, and he could think of three people that’d picked up on this. 

 

He combed his hair out after giving his face a thorough wash. McCree brushed every strand of hair into its usual place, wild but still tamed. He nodded to himself walked out of the bathroom. McCree opened a drawer, pulling out some trousers and a flannel shirt to change into. 

 

As he buttoned up his shirt, McCree looked at the bed one last time before leaving.

 

Fucking nightmares... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gfuahvdzkjbcx. im not happy with this chapter. I tried fixing it up but I've got nothing. I thought the previous chapter was goddamn short. this will work as transition into the next chapter though. and hey, at least y'know i'm still alive??? lolol. assuming any of ya care. 
> 
>  
> 
> also. the chapter description probably looks familiar. cause. it is. its from an earlier chapter. hah


	9. UwU

considering discontinuing this. all the stuff i've got here is fine but i'd rather focus on some one shots. lmao. merry christmas btw.


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